


To thine own self be true

by chaos_is_welcome



Series: Coccham Chronicles [2]
Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: F/M, Smut, TLKFFF2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24973942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaos_is_welcome/pseuds/chaos_is_welcome
Summary: Eadith realizes Finan always holds back, and decides to do something about it.For the TLKFFFF 2020 prompt: Eadith trusts Finan with her life, but she needs to convince him she trusts him with her body AND it was never a pleasure for Eadith until Finan.This is an aside, "I suppose for I see before me the hand of god" and fits neatly somewhere in the middle of the last chapter, but you don't have to read it first.
Relationships: Eadith/Finan (The Last Kingdom)
Series: Coccham Chronicles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807663
Comments: 10
Kudos: 45
Collections: The Last Kingdom Fanfic Fest





	To thine own self be true

It takes Eadith a long time to realize that Finan never truly let's himself lose control with her. The only time he's allowed it was once, before they ever laid together, in her home at Coccham, after Haeston, a Danish scoundrel, had taken her as his. Finan had come for her before Haeston could really hurt her, just as she'd known he would, but he had been injured in the process, and it had left her raw and on edge. So she had been bold, and touched him when she normally would not have, and though they had just shared a kiss, it was a kiss that was more pleasurable than anything she had ever shared with man.

Since then, they have married, had a daughter, and laid together more times than she can count. Finan is always gentle, always sees to her pleasure first. He has said many times that she is not something to be taken, and she knows that the fact that men have used and mistreated her is ingrained in his mind. Laying with him is exquisite--he makes her blood boil and her body come undone, but after Sairlaith is born, she begins to realize Finan might be a little too careful. He gives himself to her and to his passion, but he never lets go, not in the truest sense of the word. Finan is a big, powerful man, yet his touches with her are always measured. 

A year of laying with him, of loving him has helped Eadith understand a few things. Before Finan, she thought what passed between a man and a woman was something to be endured. She had not always been a willing participant, but that was simply the way things were for women, especially women in her position. Not so with Finan, though. With him, there had been nothing but pleasure. He always gave her the choice, always saw to her pleasure before her own.

She does not fully understand that anything is amiss until nearly a year after Sairlaith is born. Ten men arrive by boat to Coccham, and at first they mean to make a trade with Uhtred. Finan and Sihtric are training with the boys near the docks, and Eadith is watching, making small talk with Sihtric's willowy wife. At their feet, Sihtric's five year old daughter Yaraga plays with Siarlaith and Uhtred, Sihtric's youngest son. One moment Lord Uhtred it talking on the docks, the next swords are being drawn as men surge from the boat, trying to kill Uhtred. 

Eadith sweeps Sairlaith in her arms, grabbing Yaraga's hand as Marisin grabs little Uhtred. Eadith's eyes widen as Finan presses Aethelstan behind him, slipping the boy his saex, drawing his sword. Sihtric does the same with his son, and then they boys are running to them. "Inside the hall!" Aethelstan cries to her. "Father says we must get in the hall!" Aethelstan is the son of King Edward, hidden at Coccham from those who may deal to harm him, but he lives as Eadith and Finan's son, and has called them mother and father since his sister was born. Eadith does not argue, and runs with the children to the hall. She stands at the door, though, turning to watch Finan as he and Sihtric enter the melee, blades swinging.

It is the first time she has seen him in the heat of battle, and it takes her breath away. Moments ago, he was instructing Aethelstan and young Sihtric with care and tenderness, and now Finan in a force to be reckoned with, grinning as he chops through men to reach his Lord's side.

"Eadith!" Marisin calls, pulling on her arm. Eadith blinks and steps inside, setting Sairlaith down to help bar the door.

The men, it turns out, were sent by one of the Danes trying to ravange East Anglia. Lord Uhtred had been instrumental in the Saxon effort to maintain control of the kingdom, and the Danish warlord had hoped to put an end to that threat by taking Lord Uhtred unawares at home. Uhtred and his men kill all but one, and send him back on the ship with the dead, to carry a message to his Lord. 

Eadith can't stop thinking about the shift in Finan in a matter of seconds, from soft and measured with Aethelstan to raw power as he moved into battle. It made her think of Finan roaring into Haeston's camp last winter to save her, and that made her think of the kiss they had shared that night. Passion never lacked for them, but she realizes Finan is never wild, not like he was that night, not like he is on the battlefield. It gives her pause, and she begins to plan.

First, she tries addressing him directly, but Finan is nothing if not stubborn. She tells him she doesn't want him to hold back with her, and he laughs it off and then ends up with his mouth on her and in her, distracting her from the conversation. Finan loves using his mouth as a distraction, either through talking or ...other things.

In the end, she resorts to subversion. She simply starts finding ways to keep them from having time to lay with one another. She is bold, caressing him, whispering suggestive things in his ear, sometimes showing just enough skin to entice him, but then something always comes up. The children need her, or she must see Hild, or Lord Uhtred has called for Finan. When she has denied him for a full moon, she can see he is on edge. She spends the whole morning teasing him, and then she steps inclose to him in the barn. "Tonight, the children shall stay with Marisin." He groans, pulling her in for a kiss.

"I want you Finan, all of you. I want you to be wild with me, and stop treating me as if I am broken."

He starts to shake his head. "I do not…" he begins, but Eadith places a finger over his lips. 

"Tonight," she says, and then she avoids him for the rest of the day. 

There is tension in their small house when she returns from dropping the children with Sihtric and Marisin. Finan is standing by the hearth, his back to her, one arm propped against the stones as he peers into the flame. 

She closes the door, and then leans against it, waiting for him to look at her. He doesn't, and that worries her. She knows Finan likes things clearly spelled out where she is concerned.

"You know what I want," she says softly.

He turns then, and his face is guarded. "Ye don't know what yer askin' of me, Eadith."

He always needs her to make the first move, so she crossed the room to him. She doesn't miss his clenched fists, or the tick in his jaw. It's costing him to stay where he is, but he always needs to be sure of what she wants. Her noble warrior Irishman, something she never expected to find and can not imagine living without.

"I will not break," she whispers, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss a trail from his collarbone to his ear. He dips down with a groan, banding his arms around her, slotting her hips with his so she can feel his hard length.

"I do not want to hurt ye, Eadith," he says, resting his forehead against hers.

She shakes her head gently, running her hands.through the scruff of his jaw. "You would not, Finan," she says. "I know it, I know you."

"Ye've been hurt," he says, closing his eyes. It's like a mantra he repeats, those words. They kept him from letting her know his true feelings for her that first winter in Coccham, but in truth he had been right, she had needed the time. "I would never forgive myself if I added to that."

She scrapes her fingernails against his jaw again and waits for him to open his eyes again and hold her eyes. "I trust you," she says simply, "and you should trust you, too. Also, trust me, that I will tell you if something doesn't feel right. I know that I can, and that you will listen." She wants this, wants him. All of him. She reaches between them and palms him boldly. "I want you to take me Finan, I want you to show me how much you want me. No holding back, for once."

He had been searching her eyes, but once she has him through his breeches, he closes them and groans. He attacks her mouth, her name a whisper on his lips. He lifts her, and she wraps her legs around him. He walks with her until she feels the wall behind her, and he pins her there. She can feel every inch of his hardness pressing against her, even through their clothes, and she is completely at his mercy. It is exquisite.

He pulls back one last time, and searches her face. His pupils are blown, and they are both breathing heavily. "Ye win," he says, and he thrusts his hips against her, drawing a throaty moan from her. "Ye will tell me if I cross a line," he demands, coasting his hands up along her sides, quickly over her breasts, thumbing her nipples all too quickly as he goes. He stops at neck of the bodice. She simply moans his name and writhes against him, wanting his hands on her bare skin. That's all it takes. He rips her dress, freeing her breasts. He dips his head his beard rough against her soft skin as he takes one breast in his mouth, his fingers tweaking the other nipple. Her head dips against the wall as she moans his name. He is not gentle, but the way he wants her, the way he devours her makes heat pool low in her belly. Her hands are in his hair, and she pulls a little as he switches to the other nipple with his mouth, his hand switching from the right to the left. He must like her hands in his hair, for he flicks his tounge across her nipple in a way that makes her see white, and then he nips and she cries out, bucking against him. She is ridiculously close to the edge and he is still fully clothed.

Her hands, which had simply been clinging to his shoulders, claw at his tunic and he stops kissing her long enough to let her pull it over his head, pinning her tightly with his hips against the wall so he can raise his hands. She runs her hands down his now bare chest, tweaking his nipples in mock revenge for his ministrations and grinning as he grinds into her in response.  
"Ye wild woman, ye are enjoying this, aren't you?" He says, dark eyes gleaming.

She palms his jaw again. "Why wouldn't I, Finan? It's you, and me, and pleasure. Don't hold back," she reminds him.

He shifts her and somehow managed to undo his breeches, and she clings to his arms as he enters her in one swift thrust. He is hot and hard and feels completely exquisite. He savages her mouth, and his beard will leave marks on her in the morning and she welcomes it as he surges against her. A hand finds her nipple as the other braces above her head on the wall, and Finan snaps his hips, his cock sliding deep and hard inside of her. She peaks quickly, and he fucks her through it, slowing a little, but continuing to pull nearly out of her and then surge completely back in. Even when she's finished, he keeps her pinned there, hips pumping, and she claws at his back, her mouth finding his shoulder as she moans his name again. The heat builds again, and his forehead drops to her shoulder as he increases his pace. 

"More, Finan, I can take more," she groans, loving this, loving him taking her wild and hard. 

He groans, impossibly increasing his pace, and she holds on to him, lest she fly apart from the sensation of it all. She starts coming again, and hard. He calls her name, plunging into her one last time as he spills inside her. 

She bands her arms across his scarred shoulders, focusing on slowing her breathing. His breathing too, is heavy. "Christ, woman," he says, finding her mouth again.

She smiles against his lips. "I told you I wouldn't break," she says, carding his hands through his hair.

He bands his arms around her and carries her to the bed, still inside her. He kicks away his breeches, then sinks down on his back, settling her on top of him, his hands smoothing over her sweaty back as he clears away the ruined remains of her dress.

She smiles against his cooling skin, and he chuckles. "Pleased with herself, are ye?"

"I knew you were holding back," she says triumphantly.

He undoes her braid, letting loose her hair and running his fingers through it. " I did not fully trust myself not to hurt ye, not to get carried away. What I feel for ye, Eadith, it's unlike anything I've known. I could not bear the thought of hurtin' ye."

"Hild has always said you are the most foolish Irishman she knows."

He chuckles, his fingers in her hair relaxing her, and she feels sleep pushing on on her. "As far as I know, I am still the only Irishman the Abbess knows." She smiles against his chest. "Sleep, Eadith," he whispers. "Codladh, mo bhean ghaiscíoch fiáin."

So she does.


End file.
